The Staff of Midnight
by RockingDevil101
Summary: As Greek, Egyptian and Roman mythology gets crammed into one, mysteries are getting even weirder. Who is the one calling him or herself 'The Pale Moon? Where is the legendary Staff of Midnight? And will Percy regain his hair? And, as terror unfurls and the day grows old, the hunting horn blows, signalling only one thing ... war!
1. Chapter 1

The Staff of Midnight by RockingDevil101

(Heroes of Olympus/Kane Chronicles Crossover)

All credit To Rick Riordan Books.

Chapter 1: The Meeting On The Shore

The beach was a sparkling gold with a shade of deep red shooting across it like fresh blood.

The air was cool and a soft breeze ruffled the jet-black hair into the young teenager's face, its cold draughts hissing like the snarl of a viper.

The Atlantic ocean stretched out before him like a velvet carpet that rippled with crashing waves. It was a perfect day on Long Island beach.

However beautiful it was, Sapientia Intraarnox could not enjoy it. He was dressed in ragged jeans, a white shirt and a black jacket pulled over broad shoulders. At first glance, you would've estimated that he was thirteen, fourteen at the most; but then, when you peered closer, you could see the marks of age: faint worry lines, scars neatly carved into the pale skin, the unnerving intelligence seen from those piercing black eyes...

To hide any slim chance of anyone nearby guessing his parentage, he wore dark-tinted specs and thin leather gloves. It wouldn't do for the surrounding inhabitants to notice him, much less think he was one of them...

Sapientia gazed around. No one was in sight. This was exactly what he didn't need — people making flashy appearances.

"I'm here!" he called. "What now, a big crash of thunder? A hovering disco ball? A soda volcano?"

YOU SOUND PATHETIC.

He sighed. "Forgive me, o' goddess, but I am little harassed, plus the the traffic — you'd think it was six on a Monday morning."

THAT IS ACCEPTABLE.

An immensely tall figure swathed in a shimmering black dress materialized out of thin air beside him. Her snow-like skin glittered with tattoos of stars and constellations moving up and down her slim arms. No, not tattoos, he realized; actual shadowy models of stars, that floated across her skin like moths attracted to a flame.

She was beautiful but he barely noticed. In fact, the only thing he noted — with inner disdain — was the eyes: there was no eyes at all, just pools of black depthless shadow writhing in shallow sockets.

"So, my Lady," he began, "what have you summoned me here for?"

THE CAMP OF THE HEROES, OF COURSE. Her voice was like raw silk mingled with a certain delicacy, like gentle rain or the fall of a leaf. She pronounced heroes with the O elongated, and he guessed this was her way of mockery. HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHAT WE'RE CLOSE TO?

Ed looked shiveringly over his shoulder. The top of a bright blue attic of a large country house could just be glimpsed, and the boy thought he saw two pale orbs in green smoke at the circular window, watching him . . .

"Yes, I know," he managed. "But what exactly do I do? Infiltrate them?"

YES.

"How? Just stroll up there on the pretence that I thought this was where the Texan nightclub was?"

She laughed, a soft hair-raising scraping noise like — well, like a snakes laughter, I suppose... or ice-cold precipitation falling on molten rock.

Whichever you prefer, reader.

I WILL POSITION THE HOUND. I WOULD ADVISE YOU TO CHANGE YOUR APPEARANCE, IN CASE WE ARE CURRENTLY BEING WATCHED.

Sapientia nodded grimly. "And the other two?"

CURRENTLY UNAWARE.

"Situated?"

IN THE CAVERNS. THE LESS YOU KNOW, MY BOY, THE BETTER.

"Yes," he agreed reluctantly. Before he turned, he looked over the rolling waves. Their sculpted blue figures framed with frothy white foam turning to a dark glowing scarlet as the sun finally began its descent beyond the horizon.

Author's Note: Hey people! Hope you like this (I did, does that count?) and please pass me a review. And this is really just the prologue — a short first introducing chapter — of the series: The Staff of Midnight. ENJOY!—RockingDevil101.


	2. Chapter 2

The Staff of Midnight by RockingDevil101

(Heroes of Olympus/Kane Chronicles Crossover)

All credit To Rick Riordan Books

Chapter 2: A Dog Gives Me A Trim

First off, I'm not to blame. Annabeth can say differently but as she was the one who was in charge then — ouch! (Annabeth just punched me).

Secondly, you are not allowed to laugh at any of this that includes me. Laugh at Annabeth, she's the one who didn't believe in Pizza Delivery — ouch! Stop that!

Right. Hi. I'm Percy. Percy Jackson, shaken not stirred or whatever that English secret agent guy said. I don't keep up with TV — you like Monster Inc.? Try Monster & Me: it's a great show, and there's hardly any special effects.

So if you know me — which is good — then I won't have to describe much. I hate writing anyhow (FanFiction? Nerdy! What does RockingDevil101 mean, anyway?). If you don't know me... well, this guy wrote a whole set of biographies — sorry, fantasy novels (wink, wink) — about me. So my advice? Read them.

So the adventure — the hundredth odd one and hopefully the last, but my hopes are low — happened when me and my girlfriend Annabeth were patrolling the borders of Half-Blood Hill. The Fleece was glittering on the boughs of Thalai's tree like a golden rug, working as good as usual.

Why were we there? Well, the night before me and Annabeth had both had weird dreams. A weird voice had said: TOMORROW NIGHT!

See? No golden party invitation. No, Hey there, son! You wanna spend the night patrolling a hill!?

Yeah, I've guessed it was my dad. It sounded like him — deep, calm, and familiar. But it still didn't sound right...

I don't know.

Annabeth said she thought hers was from her mom when we discussed it over breakfast next day. It had said something similar, but apparently went on a lot longer and "much wiser". Seriously, I had the feeling Annabeth was not telling me something.

"Nice night," she said presently, her voice uncertain. Her golden hair fell around her face and her stormy grey eyes glinted in the moonlight. She gripped her bronze knife — long story, but the first one had landed in Tartarus and this newer one was actually an Egyptian wand (don't ask).

I glanced up. I guessed it was beautiful with the pale moon gazing down like a solitary silver eye and the constellations spangled around it. It was cloudless apart from a long thin stream of tufty white fluff.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Still," I added quickly, "I'd prefer to be in my bed."

"And what, have nightmares?" she asked, only half joking.

I shrugged. "There's worse nightmares, like patrolling with a —"

"With a?"

"Nothing."

"I'm glad you didn't have the nerve to finish that, Seaweed Brain," she said.

"Shut it with the smirking, Wise Girl," I shot back.

"Huh. Well, you can sleep on the grass if you're tired, Percy," Annabeth sighed. "I'll take it up myself. It's nearly midnight, anyway."

So I lay on the ground with my hands behind my head. I stared up at the stars. Annabeth was right: it was nice.

I started thinking of my warm bed in Cabin 3 ... snug with Tyson snoring like a volcanic eruption ...

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAARGGH!"

Then I woke up from my doze to the sounding of screaming, but I think you already guessed that by the line above? Clever boy/girl!

Leaping to my feet, I reached into my pocket and felt the reassuring cylinder in my pocket.

"Percy!" Annabeth yelped.

I saw it. It was long and colossal with jet-black fur as hard and sharp as razors. Its tale was as thick as an oak with bronze spikes sprouting in foot wide intervals.

Its limbs, muscular but skinny, ended in paws the size of dustbin lids, taloned with silver jet black-splashed claws, each the length of my wrist to my elbow. Its head was gigantic: a lump of flesh and fur bigger than my whole body. Round scarlet eyes like coals embedded in the monster's face, gleaming and sparkling like rubies. Its snout was longer than a crocodiles and when it roared, you could see the slithering, slug-like white tongue and row upon row of needle thin — and needle sharp — teeth that glittered like pearls.

It was a hellhound — and the largest, most fiercest, most terrifying, the most ALL TIME SCARIEST one I'd ever seen. And that was a monsters achievement.

It was slinking up the hillside, fast as river water but its movement as silent as shadows. It would've been quite a peaceful thing ... had it not been roaring and snarling at the top of its lungs. Those things must have been like extra-large — what do you call them? — bagpipes?

"Percy! Do you see him?" Annabeth shrieked. She was running towards me, her bronze dagger raised and her now unsheathed blade of Drakon bone glinting in the moonlight. (Equally Long Story: she'd got it for a present from a giant in Tartarus ("Only $9,99, get your fresh dragon teeth weapons here!").

I spluttered. "It's rather hard to miss! It's the size of two school buses crammed together! How — ?"

"Not the dog!" she screamed. "The kids! Ahead of it!"

I looked. I saw nothing at first, then noticed the three tiny shadows — well, tiny compared to the hellhound's — racing ahead of the monster. As they drew nearer I realised it was three young teenagers — two boys and one girl — all about thirteen or fourteen, their faces a mask of terror.

"Demigods?" I asked in disbelief.

She rolled her eyes. "No, Pizza Delivery men!"

"We had those when Mr. D —"

"Percy, shut up! And hurry!"

I know what you're thinking. Typical blond wanting the good looking guy to save her? Wrong. Annabeth was no sterotype, and before I'd even fumbled the cap off my pen, she'd already donned her New York Yankees cap and turned invisible.

Riptide, my magical three-foot-long bronze sword, sprang from the ballpoint pen, its illumination giving everything in range an eerie color. I charged down the hill and faced the monster as the frightened teens rushed past.

"Come on, furball!" I yelled, brandishing my blade. "You want Percy Fries? You'll have to get them!"

"RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!" it replied conversationally, yowling so loudly its hot damp breath blew the hair off my head.

I mean it. It gusted away in a cloud of brown and black, like when you blow at a dandelion. My head was now a shiny bald thing like a potato!

Annabeth was so surprised her yankees hat fell off and she was revealed standing close to the hellhound, staring at me, mouthing the single word: What the hell?

I would love to tell you I shrugged off this "nuisance" and fought the monster and sent him back to the underworld with a clean shave.

But that would be a lie.

OK, I'll spit it out. I ran, ran to my cabin, jumped under the sheets and started balling my eyes out.

So heroic. If you want the next chapter, then Annabeth's going to take it over from here — I need some quality time with my head. And don't you dare call me "stupid", you mortal wannabees!

Author's note: Hi guys, 2nd chapter, did you like it? Hope so. Was it a shock? I mean, what century are we moving to? In Victorian times they even tried putting trousers on furniture. Now, I have the second definition of a clean shave. Anyway, gimme! gimme! gimme! reviews! Thanks to my three first ever reviews—Shotgun, Super Waffel and BlueDragon32—you guys helped me decide to put this online. I especially liked Shotgun's "YOU ROCK" as I love AC/DC ... anyway, see ya and, remember, In Rock We Trust ( ).


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